Apparently, I've been dropping the ball, and not five days ago in Time's Square. So, I'll just throw out a few of my latest rants here. The 2/3d's Rule Dr. Garstein is a professor of literary fiction. He can put the Hemingway in the sheet of stories sewn together in a fabric of words painstakingly crocheted into a captivating yarn. The thing about Garstein is that he isn't just an expert in the nuances of contrived essay, he is also the authority in nearly all subjects ranging from nuclear astrophysics, to contemplational dynamics. He is, after all, a doctor. Girl: "My shoulder really hurts." Garstein: "Well, undress then." Girl: "Huh?" Garstein: "I'm a doctor." Girl: "Oh. So... What's wrong with me?" Garstein: "Hmm... nice." Girl: "What?" Garstein: "It's all in your mind. It's fiction." Girl: "Um, no it's not." Garstein, shaking furiously: "Don't question me! I'm a doctor dammit!" See I don't get to play that card. I feel left out. Girl: "My shoulder really hurts." Sac: "Well, let's take a look." Girl: "I suppose you're going to tell me you're a doctor and tell me to undress." Sac: "Well, actually... I only have a Master's. So, just, take two thirds of your clothes off and we'll call it a day." The Bad Lettuce Wrap They had such a good thing going. Then they started going downhill. First they killed their side salad. They had two salads. They had a big salad, with chicken on it. That was a meal salad. And they had a side salad, which, was a side... salad. A side salad is what you get as a side, when you don't get a meal salad and you want it to go with something like a burger, but you don't eat fries, and don't want to get onion rings, even though they are scrumpdillyumptious. Note that although Ned Flanders is generally credited with inventing the word, it was actually Roald Dahl that came up with it. Well, lightning struck twice. Last week to the burger place that begins with the letter C on the West coast and the letter H on the East coast and ordered a Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger, lettuce wrapped. Why they call it that I don't know, it isn't descriptive. It's actually a Western Bacon Double Cheeseburger. One Western One Bacon. Two Cheeseburger patties. I brought it home because I was in the car, and I can't eat it inside the restaurant, and I don't eat in the car. Nope. Don't do it. Won't do it. Wouldn't be prudent. I kind of felt ashamed of going out for a yummy burger when there was so much lunch stuff at home. So I ate it in the garage. Something was just... off. The lettuce had this paper like texture. It was slightly sour. It was green leaf lettuce, not iceberg lettuce. It lacked substance. It just wasn't right. There was a disturbance in the Force. The thing about green leaf lettuce, is that all lettuces have their place. Green leaf lettuce is great in a salad blend. Iceberg is great for lettuce wrapping. Romaine is perfect for a Ceasar salad. Even kale has it's place. The garbage disposal. Well it happened to me again. I thought it was an anomaly, as I have had problems with that C/H location before. Well yesterday, I arrived at the pub only to find it was shut down, probably by the County SS troopers because somebody complained that they were actually in business and serving people. But that's neither here nor there. I picked up another of the same burger at a different C on the way home. Same thing. Bad move. Next time, if I even give them another shot, I will ask them if they can please use iceberg lettuce. Interestingly, 'iceberg' is the same in Spanish as it is in English. So, 'Lechuga de iceberg.' The Pizza Girl Let's face it, 'Burger Girl' is not a career destination. Nor is 'Pizza Girl.' They tend to be intelligent, on an academic track, and are good at interacting with customers. Which, is one of the primary qualifications of those whose job is to interact with customers. And then, occasionally, there is that occasional one. The girl whose academic track is fielded by a bus with less than standard seating capacity. I don't eat pizza often, but when I do, I post a meme on the Internet featuring a bearded guy in a suit jacket drinking a Mexican beer. Actually that is a lie. I don't do Internet memes. Not even ones featuring two angry women pointing at a smug cat. Although, I'm going to call her 'Jane.' Jane is probably one of them. I don't actually know if her name is Jane, because remembering names is a pain. But suffice to say, that night I had Jane Pain. Me: "I'll have the Italian meat combo, with anchovies." Jane: "Of course." Fast forward a half hour... Jane: "Here you go!" Me: I'm staring at the pizza. "Um... there is only like, let's one... two... there is only two anchovies on this entire pizza!" Jane: "Right. Well, you see, most people don't like anchovies, so we tend not to put very many on." Now how do you argue with that. But I've seen a lot of that logic in abundance lately. Pretty much ever where I turn.